Zadies’s POV
I knew this wasn’t what I should be focusing on.
There were bigger things at stake, the truth I still didn’t fully know, the blurry lines between loyalty and betrayal, and the dangerous possibility that I might be falling for the very man I swore to fight. But none of that mattered at this moment, because I couldn’t stop seeing it.
Kendall. Her hands on him. Her lips pressing against his. And Lazaro... standing there. Not kissing her back. But not stopping her right away either.
I had walked away before I could see how it ended. Maybe that was the coward in me. Maybe I didn’t want to see him push her away too late. Or worse not at all. Now, here I was, hours later, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the wall like it could explain what I was feeling. Anger. Shame. Jealousy I didn’t want to name.
I wasn’t even supposed to care. He was never mine to begin with. But I did care. And that was the problem. Maybe it’s over, I told myself. Maybe I could still go through with it, slip past the guards, find the truth on my own. Do what I came here to do in the first place. Start again.
I stood up, gathered the few things I thought I might need. I moved quietly, like the silence itself might betray me. My hand was on the door handle when I heard it, the faintest shift of movement behind me. I turned… and froze. Kendall was standing in the doorway.
I hadn’t even heard her approach. Her hair was pulled back, not a strand out of place. Her eyes, usually full of icy disdain, now burned with something else entirely, something wild. Her mouth trembled, not with fear, but rage barely contained. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Why you?” she hissed, the words sharp like blades. “Why does it always have to be you?”
I swallowed hard. “Kendall-”
“Do you even know what you’ve done?” she asked, her voice cracking at the edges. “He doesn’t see anyone else anymore. I’ve fought beside him, bled for him, helped him build everything he has, and still... he chooses you.” I took a step back, suddenly aware of the weight of her presence, and the fury radiating off her in waves.
“It wasn’t a choice,” I said quietly. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Liar.” She laughed bitterly. “You charmed him without even trying. He’s losing focus because of you. Weakening. And for what? For a traitor?”
“I never meant for-”
“No,” she snapped, pulling something from behind her coat. “You should’ve never existed in his world.” The gun in her hand gleamed cold under the dim light. My breath hitched.
“Kendall,” I said slowly, raising my hands slightly. “Don’t do this.”
Tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall. “If it were me, he would’ve let me die. But for you? He’d burn the whole world.” She stepped closer, the muzzle of the gun pointed directly at my chest.
“I can’t let you ruin him,” she whispered.
My legs refused to move. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t scream. All I could do was stare at the dark mouth of the barrel and pray for something, anything, to stop this.
The trigger clicked. A loud crack split the air. But the bullet didn’t hit me, there was a sound, a sharp gasp, and then a weight crashed into me, pushing me down. When I opened my eyes, Lazaro was above me. Blood bloomed through his shirt, just above the ribs. His breath hitched as he collapsed partially on top of me, groaning in pain.
“Lazaro!” I cried, catching him before he could fall.
His face twisted in agony, but his eyes, those damn eyes, locked onto mine with nothing but fear.
“Why did you do that? I’m not worth saving for!”
“I don’t k-know. I still want you…” he rasped.
Kendall stood frozen, the gun still in her hand, her expression unreadable. She looked at Lazaro, the man she had once called hers, bleeding on the floor because he chose to protect me.
“Why?” she whispered. But I wasn’t listening to her anymore. My hands were slick with his blood. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
“Stay with me,” I begged him. “Lazaro, please, stay with me.”
He tried to speak, but another groan escaped instead. I pressed both hands against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, tears blurring my vision.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, voice shaking. “You’re going to be okay.”
Behind me, I heard footsteps, guards rushing in after the gunshot, shouts echoing off the walls. But I didn’t move. I held him tighter. Because this man, this terrifying, broken man, had taken a bullet for me.